Where Lilies Grow like Grass(I'm better off without you here)
by Soimcoolwithlife
Summary: Bruises and scars fade, but the lasting damage of an abusive boyfriend doesn't.


**I've gotta stop making promises, cause I won't be finishing my stories soon. I have an exceptionally long fic(5,000+ words) almost done, but I'd thought I'd post this first. It's short, don't kill me, I'm sorry! I'm going to update soon, but I just wanted to publish this... I hope you like it, even if the language is a bit...errr.. strong.**

He was a bit of a mess lately. Messy hair, brooding eyes, always looking a little bit lost. It had hit him quickly, that Dr. Charles was dead. Shot. It also hit him that Robin was well again, and now her father was dead. Shit.

He had tried to make a miracle happen, tried to bring Dr. Charles back. But, he was still the one who had to pull Ethan away from shocking the dead physiatrist again. When Robin had found out, she had been a mess of tears, screaming. This time, it wasn't because she was crazy, but rather, because her father was _gone._ It was hard for anyone to accept.

Connor knew he was on the crash and burn route. He would probably work himself senseless, sick, and exhausted. Then he would probably work some more. He probably wouldn't think about _it_ for at least a couple of weeks. He knew that he would be running on pure adrenaline and pain, and he just _knew_ that it was going to end badly.

He didn't think it would end this badly. It had been a week and he hardly had had any sleep at all. Coffee was his savior, giving him the energy to work shifts in a row. Ms. Goodwin, ever the keen observer, had caught on to his exhausted state. She couldn't do anything though, he had never clocked in for his unassigned shifts, as if he wasn't there. He saved, and lost, so many lives in the span of 6 days.

But really, who could have expected it would go to shit this fast. It was Monday. Tired, exhausted, and starting to feel sick, he showed up at 5:00 AM, after getting the first hours of sleep he had had in a week. The hospital wasn't exactly quiet, but it was close. There was less bustle, more calming words. More people asleep by their loved ones hospital beds, instead of crying outside. He liked the mornings.

Halfway through the shift, he came out of a risky trauma surgery. He had saved the guy's life, but he cost him the loss of function in his legs. His hand had slipped. Too tired, too sick. He cursed himself for it, over and over. He made his way to the ED, eager to work on trauma, for once.

The first patient that was rushed through the doors was a woman, in her 20s, pretty. Her long, dark brown hair was streaked with blood. When her blue eyes opened, she freaked, thrashing around, without making a sound. He gave her some haldol.

"Hey. Car accident?" he asked the EMT, while examining her wrists, one of which was obviously broken.

"Yeah, truck hit a whole group of people head on. Her boyfriend should be here soon, they were doing something in the field," the EMT replies, grabbing the backboard and jogging out of the hospital to help another person.

The girl was badly injured, internal bleeding, and a head wound that was serious enough to need 27 stitches and sever concussion protocol. His hands shook slightly as he worked furiously on the stitches. His hands were quicker than most, his long, nimble, fingers tying off the stitches and sending her to get an MRI.

He went back into the hall, waiting on the boyfriend. He saw Will and Ethan trying to resuscitate a patient in trauma 3, obviously failing, while a screaming woman was begging them to do something. He grimaced, looking away.

A few minutes later, a gurney was rushed into the ED, Natalie following him as he tried to see the patient past the EMTs working to keep him alive. They got the guy into trauma 4, and finally got a pulse. The EMTs cleared away, with 'good luck's and grim smiles. He could see the patient, finally.

Fucking shit. Motherfucking son of a bitch. Josh.

He felt himself freeze. Josh couldn't be here. Josh was in Riyadh. Josh couldn't be here because Josh was in Riyadh. Josh hated Chicago. Josh would kill him if he knew Connor moved back to Chicago to get away from him. Fuck.

Even though his rational mind told him that Josh couldn't be here, in Chicago, in front of Connor, it looked like him. Same blond hair, but a little bit longer. Same tanned skin, same long eyelashes. When 'Josh's' eyes snapped open, the familiar dark brown color of met the vibrant blue of Connor's eyes, and he stepped back in shock. It was Josh.

Natalie snapped him out of his terrified state with a confused,'Connor?'. The guy's eyes had closed already. He shook his head, trying not to think about _that_ right now. Without another glance at Nat, who was watching him worriedly, he worked. He stitched and plastered, even though he really just wanted to stab Josh's pretty face in.

Broken ribs, broken leg, fractured collarbone, possible internal bleeding. It all went by so fast, his mind trying to process that _Josh was here,_ in _Chicago,_ of all places. Josh, Chicago, Chicago, Josh. Oh dear god, this was his penance, wasn't it? He pulled on the stitches a little too hard, his handy work bunching painfully at the skin, but really, he couldn't bring himself to care enough to loosen it. He was on autopilot, thoughts not on his hands but on the situation, _his, Connor's and Josh's._ He pressed a little too hard, stitched a little too roughly, and he could admit he wasn't all that gentle with Josh's broken nose. Oops.

Soon, the anger disappeared, replaced with the terrifying reality that Josh was physically in front of him. Instead of wanting to punch Josh in the jaw, he found himself wanting to leave, hide anywhere, anywhere but here. _Stupid,_ he thought. _Josh isn't even awake. You don't even know if this is Josh,_ a nagging voice replied. But deep in his mind, he knew that this was Josh, even if the last person Connor would want to see in the world was right there. He tries to tell himself he was good enough for Josh, he was. But he just can't believe it. _Josh hates you,_ the voice reminded, _and you deserve it._

Yeah, that was an understatement. Punches are just punches until they're thrown from your boyfriend, even if he's drunk(he's not), and they're still punches when they hit you. Stupid words are just stupid, stupid, stupid words until he says them like he means them, and they're still only words until you start to believe him. Fake smiles and girls are still the same when your abusive boyfriend tells you to kill yourself, and they're still only fake smiles and girls until you actually do.

Josh.


End file.
